Chapter 3

LYRA POV:

The dance ended, and Lucian, with Elara clinging to his arm, walked directly towards me. His face was a mask of cool arrogance.

"Lyra," he said, his tone dismissive. "You should come and say hello to Elara. She is the future princess of this pack, after all."

A cold, sharp laugh escaped my lips. The sound cut through the nearby chatter, and several heads turned our way.

"Princess?" I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Last I checked, she's just a bastard daughter my father has yet to formally acknowledge. The pack elders certainly haven't."

The air around us went still. Elara's face paled, and Lucian's jaw tightened.

"Watch your mouth, Lyra," he hissed, his eyes flashing with anger. "You're just jealous."

"Jealous?" I took a step closer, my voice rising. "You told me you hated these celebrations. You told me you weren't good enough to be seen with me, that you didn't want the elders to talk. You refused to stand by my side for five years."

I gestured to the dance floor. "But now? Now you're dancing the opening waltz with "her"? You broke your promise to me, Lucian."

"Don't make a scene," he warned, his voice low and threatening. "I need Elara's... help. To solidify my position."

The excuse was so pathetic, so insulting, that something inside me snapped.

"Her help?" I spat, the words tasting like venom. "What could she possibly offer? She's the daughter of Vexia, a filthy Rogue whose bloodline is as dirty as the mud she crawled out of!"

Rage exploded across Lucian's face. Before I could even react, his hand flew through the air.

"SMACK."

The sound echoed in the sudden silence of the hall. The force of the blow sent me stumbling back a step, my cheek stinging with a fiery pain. But the physical hurt was nothing compared to the agony that ripped through my soul. A mate striking another is the ultimate betrayal, a violation of the sacred bond given by the Goddess. The connection between us fractured, sending a wave of nausea and heartbreak through my entire being.

I stared at him, my vision swimming with unshed tears. My mate. The man I loved. He had hit me. For her.

My heart didn't just break. It turned to dust.

I looked into his furious eyes, and with a voice that trembled but did not break, I uttered the most powerful and damning words a werewolf can speak. The words that would change everything.

"I, Lyra Costa, reject you, Lucian Smith, as my mate."